The Purple Flower

Tiny Fireworks

There was once this small very young kid who lived with his dear old Mom inside a small home. They loved each other so much and one day this kid’s mom comes to her dear old son and gently gives him a Rial and send him off to buy her some meat so that she can cook dinner for the both of them.

So, off this kid goes all chirpy and nice singing melodies on the way to the market get the meat that his Mom wanted to cook and comes back with the same cheerful tone. On the way, he sees this beautiful purple flower blooming by the sidewalk that he was chirping along on. He gets the thought that if he gives this purple flower to his nice Mom then she will appreciate him more and love even more. So he picks it off the grass and moves along and reaches his home in no time, same cheerful state he had left earlier.

‘Mommy, I got your meat’, he goes. ‘Thank you, my sweet dear’, she would reply. But she notices that he’s hiding something behind his back and asks him what it is. He blushingly says ‘I saw this on the way back and I thought if I gave it to you it would make you happier’. ‘That’s so sweet of you my dear child, but what is it?’, she smiles. ‘This..’, and with that, he presents the purple flower to his dear old nice Mom. Shocked, enraged, and fumed, she picks up an empty frying pan and hits the boy on his head. ‘Get out!’, she shouts. ‘Help! Police! You Devil!’, she would say at the top of her voice.

The boy runs out of the small house that lives by the street. He runs and runs, crying and whaling about all the pain caused by his dear old Mom who thrashed him with an empty frying pan.

He eventually stops at a corner of the garden, still whimpering about the pain caused by his dear old Mom. Then this nice old nanny walks along the same garden smiling ever so cheerfully, and sees this kid with tears in his eyes. ‘What’s the matter, little boy?’, she asks. The boy, naturally wounded in his heart over his Mom thrashing him, says ‘I wanted to make my Mommy happy by giving her this nice flower’. Sniffing and blurting out the last words, the boy presents the purple flower to the nanny, who in turn, is shocked, freaked out, and goes mental on the kid by thrashing him with her walking cane whilst shouting out ‘Help! Police! Help! You psycho! Help!’. She thrashes and thrashes the kid on and on and on. And the kid runs away again..

He runs street after street after street crossing the roads from one neighbourhood to another. Eventually he stops again at another crossroad. Still whimpering about his bad day and how he got kicked out of his Mom’s house and by an old lady in public garden, comes along a nice young policeman who passes by the little boy and sees him crying and on his own. ‘What’s the matter, young boy?’, he asks. And the boy says ‘ I wanted to make my Mommy happy by giving her this nice flower I got from a flowering cherry tree’, and no sooner does the policeman see the purple flower does he pull out his gun and points it at the kid and shouts out, ‘Oh my God! Hands up! You mean machine, you!’, and throws him into Jail.

Our little boy is now in Jail and is put in with this humongous brutal man. This man turns around to see the boy crying, bruised, in pain, and whimpering and asks him, ‘I was put in here for splitting a man in half because I caught him cheating with my wife; what about you?, in a gruntly voice. The boy, scared from head to toe from this man in front of him, says in a shaky voice ‘I – I – I …..I picked this flower for my Mommy to make her happy’, and shows him the purple flower. The man, scared that he almost craps in his pants, cries out to the jail-house guard, ‘Help! Guard! Get me out of here! Help!’. And with that makes a hole in the jail’s wall trying to run for his life.

The little kid, still whimpering over his bad luck, walks out the hole in the wall. Comes upon a street and crosses it.


He’s run over by an ambulance.

Moral of the story is to always look left and right before crossing the road.

You know you’re addicted to the Internet when ..

You kiss your girlfriend’s home page.

A VRML virtual walk through a park is your idea of a good date.

Your bookmark takes 15 minutes to scroll from top to bottom.

Your eyeglasses have a web site burned in on them.

All your daydreaming is preoccupied with getting a faster connection to the net: 28.8…ISDN…cable modem…T1…T3.

And even your night dreams are in HTML.

You turn off your modem and get this awful empty feeling, like you just pulled the plug on a loved one.

You refer to going to the bathroom as downloading.

You start introducing yourself as “Jim at I-I-Net dot net dot au

Your heart races faster and beats irregularly each time you see a new WWW site address in print or on TV, even though you’ve never had heart problems before.

You step out of your room and realize that your parents have moved and you don’t have a clue when it happened.

You turn on your intercom when leaving the room so you can hear if new e-mail arrives.

Your wife drapes a blond wig over your monitor to remind you of what she looks like.

All of your friends have an @ in their names.

When looking at a pageful of someone else’s links, you notice all of them are already highlighted in purple.

Your dog has its own home page.

Your dog’s homepage is actually good.

You can’t call your mother…she doesn’t have a modem.

You check your mail. It says “no new messages.” So you check it again.

Your phone bill comes to your doorstep in a box.

You code your homework in HTML and give your instructor the URL.

You don’t know the sex of three of your closest friends, because they have neutral nicknames and you never bothered to ask.

Your husband tells you he’s had the beard for 2 months.

You wake up at 3 a.m. to go to the bathroom and stop and check your e-mail on the way back to bed.

You tell the kids they can’t use the computer because “Daddy’s got work to do” and you don’t even have a job.

You buy a Captain Kirk chair with a built-in keyboard and mouse.

Your wife makes a new rule: “The computer cannot come to bed.”

You get a tatoo that says “This body best viewed with Netscape 2.01or higher.”

You never have to deal with busy signals when calling your ISP…because you never log off.

The last girl you picked up was only a jpeg.

You ask a plumber how much it would cost to replace the chair in front of your computer with a toilet.

Your wife says communication is important in a marriage…so you sign up for satellite internet services, buy another computer and install a second phone line so the two of you can chat.

As your car crashes through the guardrail on a mountain road, your first instinct is to search for the “back” button.

The Movie Director

After a venerable career of endless, stellar successes the greatest director who ever lived is in his prime and preparing for his most ambitious project ever (he had learnt about the Internet and wanted to get into live video streaming services) when he unexpectedly dies and is called home to heaven. St. Peter meets him at the gate.

“So sorry about your untimely death,” he tells the director. “But God himself has called you home. You see, God wants you to direct a movie for Him.”

The great man is humbled, “God wants ME to direct a film?”

“Yes,” St. Peter tells him. “And we’ve arranged to have the best of everything made available to you. For example, the script is by William Shakespeare.”

The director is stunned, “An original screenplay by William Shakespeare?”

“Yes,” St. Peter assures him, “And it’s his greatest work ever.”

“Wow!” says the Director, awe struck.

“Your Production Designer will be Michaelangelo. We’ve got Leonardo Da Vinci doing the sets, your musical score will be an original work by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and your cast includes a young Laurence Olivier and the greatest actors of all time in supporting roles.”

The Director can’t believe it. “This is incredible,” he says. “This will be the greatest movie ever?”

St. Peter kind of shuffles his feet. “Well,” he says, “we do have one tiny little problem.”

“Problem?” says the director. “What kind of a problem?”

St. Peter puts his arm around the director’s shoulder, “Ya see,” he whispers, “God’s got this girlfriend…”

The perfect gift

Christmas from the present's perspective

A fellow was talking to his buddy, and he said, “I don’t know what to get my wife for her birthday. She has everything, and besides, she can afford to buy anything she wants, I really don’t want to get her another one of those gift cards, so I’m stumped.”

His buddy said, “I have an idea. Why don’t you make up a certificate saying she can have 60 minutes of great sex, any way that she wants it. She’ll probably be thrilled.”

So the fellow did.

The next day his buddy asked, “Well? Did you take my suggestion?”

“Yes, I did,” said the fellow.

“…And did she like it?” His buddy asked.

“Oh yes! She jumped up, thanked me, kissed me on the forehead and ran out the door yelling, “I’ll be back in an hour!!!”

Delia vs The Real Woman

Delia’s Way

Stuff a miniature marshmallow in the bottom of a sugar cone to prevent ice-cream drips.

The Real Woman’s Way

Just suck the ice cream out of the bottom of the cone, for God’s sake. You are probably lying on the couch wrapped up in one of your official NFL jerseys with your feet up eating it anyway.


Delia’s Way

To keep potatoes from budding, place an apple in the bag with the potatoes.

The Real Woman’s Way

Buy Smash and keep it in the cupboard for up to a year.


Delia’s Way

When a cake recipe calls for flouring the baking tin, use a bit of the dry cake mix instead and there won’t be any white mess on the outside of the cake.

The Real Woman’s Way

Tescos’ sell cakes. They even do decorated versions.


Delia’s Way

If you accidentally over-salt a dish while it’s still cooking, drop in a potato slice.

The Real Woman’s Way

If you over salt a dish while you are cooking, that’s tough. Please recite with me the Real Woman’s motto: ‘I made it and you will eat it and I don’t care how bad it tastes.’


Delia’s Way

Wrap celery in aluminium foil when putting in the refrigerator and it will keep for weeks

The Real Woman’s Way

It could keep forever. Who eats it?


Delia’s Way

Cure for headaches: Take a lime, cut it in half and rub it on your forehead. The throbbing will go away.

The Real Woman’s Way

Cure for headaches: Take a lime, cut it in half and drop it in 8 ounces of vodka. Drink the vodka. You might still have the headache, but you wont give a sh*t?


Delia’s Way

If you have a problem opening jars, try using latex dishwashing gloves. They give a non-slip grip that makes opening jars easy.

The Real Woman’s Way

Why do I have a man?


Delia’s Way

Freeze leftover wine into ice cubes for future use in casseroles

The Real Woman’s Way

Left over wine???? Helllloooo!!